


Me Desculpa

by Kasuchi



Category: Bleach
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Do not speak of things you do not understand, old man." </i> Rukia is at the edge, and Urahara is convenient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me Desculpa

**Author's Note:**

> For **hellesque** as part of **bleach_flashfic** 's May 2008 round. Her requests: Introspective, angsty. Hetero sex. Spoilers up to Ichigo's training with the Vaizards only. Deliberately disjointed. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you were going for, but it's the best that I could do.
> 
> Hat tip to **jaina** for the beta work.

**5.**

Orihime came through first, shaky on her feet after a long day of training and school. Outside, stars dotted the Karakura sky, and Orhime's eyes followed the trail of a shooting star briefly.

"Inoue?"

The auburn-haired girl snapped to attention and blushed. "Sorry, Kuchiki-san. I must have zoned out for a moment."

Rukia's stern expression softened. "It's okay. Go home, get some rest. I'll meet you after school tomorrow."

The other girl nodded and bowed swiftly. Slipping on her shoes, she waved to Tessai and made her way home, humming something about freckles.

"Well, well," came a smooth voice from the shadows beyond the shoji. "It seems she's doing fine." A fan snapped shut. From the darkness emerged Urahara, eyes hidden by his hat and hands tucked into his sleeves. "Tea, Kuchiki-san?" Almost magically, a tray with a hot pot of jasmine tea appeared on the low table, steaming gently, and Tessai leaned back onto his heels.

She shook her head. "Perhaps when I return," she said stiffly, before flash-stepping into the night.

He touched the fan to his lips and made a low sound in his throat.

**4.**

The shoji rattled with the force from the thunder alone. The lightning crackled once more, lighting the house in eerie light. Rain pounded against the roof, a steady thrum in the background of the tenants' consciousness.

The door rattled once more before it was flung open violently. A figure dressed in black and soaked through to the bone stood in the doorway, silhouetted by a third arc of lightning.

"Ah, Kuchiki-san," Urahara greeted pleasantly. The thunder boomed around them suddenly, so forceful that even the hat on Urahara's head seemed shaken. "Tea? Tessai will hang your robes up to dry." He smiled. "Won't you keep an old man company?"

She shook out fat drops of water from her hair and shivered. "Fine," she bit out, and moved to an adjoining room. Tessai handed her a neatly folded stack of clothing, bowing before returning to the kitchen.

"White tea, please," Urahara called, loud enough for both to hear. In moments, Rukia stepped out dressed in a simple yukata, the belt tied tightly. She fell gracefully to her knees and sat, tucking her feet under her elegantly. By contrast, Urahara sat to her left, cross-legged and comfortable in his usual, loose clothes.

Tessai reentered, a tray in his hands holding a steaming teapot not unlike the one she had left behind earlier. He gently set the ceramic on the pad near the fair-haired man and placed a teacup before both of them. With a bow, he left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

"It seems we are alone," Urahara commented, voice still pleasant. Carefully, he served her tea before pouring himself a small quantity of the brew.

Rukia watched the steam curl up from her mug, the wisps disappearing into the darkness. A sole light held the oppressive darkness at bay now that Tessai had retired. The light, yellow and dim, cast the room in strange shadows.

Her eyes snapped out of focus for a moment before refocusing on the surface of her tea. "Nothing," she said quietly.

"Kuchiki-san?"

She shook her head, and water droplets flicked off the edges. "Nothing. If I didn't know he was in there," she said, trailing off. Her hands shook, and she tightened her hands around the teacup. The ceramic in her hands creaked ominously. She loosened her death grip, blowing gently into the pale depths instead. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, and took a long pull of the soothing brew. The warmth spread through her chest, countering the chill that had settled into her skin.

"I'm certain he has a reason," he murmured.

She nodded curtly and took another long drink.

"Like, perhaps, controlling that hollow inside him...?"

She set the empty cup on the surface in silence.

**3.**

"I'm tired," she murmured, folding her hands into her lap.

"Perhaps you should take a rest." He paused, studying her for a long moment. "You haven't been sleeping much, have you." It wasn't a question.

"No." Her voice hardened.

He peered at her quizzically. "Those dark circles under your eyes aren't flattering. If you don't mind me saying."

She glared at him, hands fisting into her robe. "No, I won't rest," she bit out through gritted teeth.

"If you keep pushing yourself, you're going to hurt someone. Probably yourself, you know." He lifted the cup to his lips.

She knocked it out of his hands. "Do not speak of things you do not understand, old man." Her voice was cold, her eyes colder, and her aura behind her brought to mind a raging snowstorm in the dead of winter.

Lightning flashed.

He shook his head. "Tch. The tea will leave a stain." He lifted a napkin off the tea tray and dabbed at the spilled tea.

Thunder sounded around them, loud and ringing in the silence of the room.

She took a deep breath - _in through the nose, out through the mouth_ \- and unclenched her hands, ignoring the half-moon imprints her nails left on her palms. "Cut the crap, Urahara."

He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I've never been anything but honest with you, Kuchiki-san."

"Really." She smiled humorlessly. "Then you won't mind if I ask you a direct question."

"By all means."

Her smile widened a fraction of an inch. "Why have you been in contact with my brother?"

A muscle twitched in his cheek, imperceptible except she had been looking for it. He whipped out the rising sun fan in front of his face, eyes crinkling in what looked like amusement but for the suspicion in his eyes.

Lightning flashed and the lights in the house went out. The thunder rumbled a moment later.

**2.**

Lips and teeth and tongue worked to drive her crazy, moving across her flesh in slow, languid movements. Rough hands pulled the yukata off her shoulders, and belatedly she realized that she had seen him wearing this set before.

"Dirty old man," she bit out before hissing as he nipped at the pale skin of her neck, soothing it with a lave of his tongue before blowing on it gently. She felt a shiver run through her, making her nipples harden.

He pulled back and grinned, almost predatory. "Ah ah ah. Remember, I built that gigai of yours. I know--" he tucked the stray lock of hair behind an ear, tracing her jawline - "Every sensitive--" the longest finger traced down her sternum, into the valley of her breasts - " _Spot_." The hand moved and cupped a breast, massaging it firmly.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sensation, trying to block out whose hand it was on her breast, whose lips it was that had resumed their march across her collarbone, whose tongue it was that drew warm patterns against her still-cold skin. Arms pinned at her sides by the sleeves of the garment, she could only arch her back into his touch.

Over the sound of the rain, she heard the sound of movement, of cloth rustling and falling to the floor. Half-tempted to open her eyes, she opened her mouth when she suddenly felt a warm weight along her body and a mouth on hers. It was a forceful kiss, tongue pushing past her lips and into her mouth. She responded in kind, arching up and shaking her arms out of the restrictive sleeves. Blindly, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his torso, palms flattening and running over the muscles in his shoulders. The feeling of bare skin on skin was heady and intoxicating, as was the rush of knowing just what she was about to do.

She could pretend, she thought. (Except the shoulders weren't the same shape, and the hair was all wrong.) The mouth tore away from hers roughly and left a trail of wet, openmouthed kisses down to between her breasts. Then, there was the feeling of his mouth on a nipple, tongue drawing looping patterns on, above, and around the sensitive skin. She bit her lip hard, making soft noises in the back of her throat. He switched to the other breast, and she curled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. She felt him smile against her skin, then kiss the underside of each breast, making goosebumps appear across her arms.

He painted another trail of wet kisses lower, across the basin of her stomach. He pressed his tongue into her belly button and every muscle in her lower abdomen clenched. The knot of her yukata pressed into her skin briefly before loosening; the whole thing fell away and the kisses turned slower, one on each hip, on each thigh.

Without the warm body covering her, she felt cold. Another chill ran down her spine, and he paused.

Finally, she opened her eyes and saw him in the semidarkness, light hair and dark eyes fixed on her face. Rukia managed to muster the focus to glare at him. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, mouth curving into a smile against her skin, and she knew that she would never be able to see him smile again without immediately remembering the feel of his lips on her flesh.

**1.**

She felt it, on her skin. That patina of sweat and sex and spit. It made her feel stiff and dirty in a way she couldn't quite describe.

Sweaty and sated, they laid side by side in the semidarkness. Outside, the rain continued to fall, though the lightning and thunder had long since ceased.

Propped up on one elbow, he traced the contours and dips of her upper body with a feather-light touch. Tousled blonde hair fell into his eyes, and his face was half in shadow. Her own half-lidded gaze remained unfocused, though her eyes never wavered from the ceiling. She paid their nakedness no mind, and he seemed to revel in it.

His hand drew a looping pattern before skirting the underside of a breast and pausing. He began to massage it, starting from the underside, and eyes glittered as her body responded in the way he wanted.

She pulled his hand away carelessly, feeling the sensation fade. Her eyes closed before reopening to their half lidded state.

"This was a mistake," she said quietly, voice slightly raw.

He shook off her grip and resumed his ministrations. "Was it?"

"Yes," she hissed, batting away his hand.

In a flash, he straddled her, his knees pinning down her arms and his hands splayed at her waist. "Are you sure?" Slowly, deliberately, he ran his hands up the sides of her torso, pressure just shy of bruising. When he reached the outer curve of her breasts, he palmed one in each hand and kneaded, hard at first and then much gentler. Her hips twitched with each stroke of his thumbs over her nipples, causing her sex to rub against his.

"I'm sure," she bit out, trying to hold onto her control - control she felt slipping out of her fingers like so much sand.

He gave a final, firm squeeze to her breasts before shifting his hands to the floor to leverage his weight better. "You don't mean that." Before she could say anything, he had kissed her, effectively cutting off the conversation. Carefully, he sank into her, waiting for her to adjust to the feeling of being filled before driving into her, hard and fast. She sucked in a breath as his thrusts grew more erratic. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her fingers clutched the material underneath her in a white-knuckled grip. A callused thumb teased her clit, eliciting a low moan from her.

Every muscle in her body clenched, she gasped, and--

**0.**

In the morning, she was gone.


End file.
